Whew. I’m not sure I had any clue how LITTLE energy I’d have in the second trimester this time around! I’m past the halfway mark with our precious little Grayson, and I’m still waiting for the sudden burst of energy that will help me accomplish the countless nesting projects that are on my “to do” lists. I can make it until about 12:45 each day, and then I hit a wall of total exhaustion that can’t be scaled. And speaking of scales, I have quit stepping on them every day because the climbing numbers add to my exhaustion and frustration. Frustration that grows when food gets flung across the dining room because simply saying “All Done” wasn’t enough. It’s enough to make me want to pull my hair out sometimes. A lot of times. But then there’s the cute way she looks at the clock and says “Cock. Teek teek tock.” Gotta work on pronouncing those L blends still… ha!
But it’s those cute little moments holding her, looking at the clock her great grandfather once owned, that make every single bit of exhaustion fade away. It’s the countless times I hear, “Mommy up! Peeze?” It’s her picking up bits of paper from the floor and saying “Trash? Away? Ok. Hepper.” But it’s more than that. It’s the “nuggles” and watching her as she sleeps. It’s listening to her count even though she misses numbers. It’s working puzzles with her and helping her learn her colors. All the while, watching the stretch marks on my hips expand as I feel tiny little kicks and punches, and just this week, hiccups. Those moments, justify those marks and turn them into Mama Tiger Stripes.
My former clothes may not fit right, and the scale may not be my friend in this world of peanut-butter-and-strawberry-jam-sandwich cravings. Ten or eleven hours of sleep at night may not cut the sleepies in the morning, or afternoon, or evening. I may miss out on lots of evening time with my hubby to desperately attempt to find more time to cram in sleep. I may feel like a zombie sometimes. But it is all 250% worth it. Every moment. Every single possible fear or bit of nervous energy is washed away when I look around me at her beautiful artwork, and see her passion for books. I may not know how she’ll handle being a big sister, but the moments when she pats my ever-expanding-middle and says “Baby tummy. Dayson! Bubba!” Those are the moments when I don’t worry so much and I know that like every time she’s thrown a fit, every time she’s had to go to time out, every time she’s been loud when she should have been quiet, this too shall pass. We’ll make mistakes. We’ll figure things out. We’ll do things right. We’ll do things wrong. And we’ll love them both more than we can understand.
But through it all, I must remember. She’s only a baby herself. A baby with a beautiful, sweet, caring heart, who likes to help say “Thank you” to Jesus before her meals, who gives hugs and kisses just because, and who is now quick to say “I you” and “I you, too” to people she loves. No matter what this little guy comes out looking like, no matter how quickly he walks or talks or learns, he has a big sister who already loves him SO much, (and will no doubt hate him at times, too) and will set an example for him in both good and bad ways. We’ll work through every one of them, and love him as much as we love her, and together with God at our head, we’ll figure out this crazy world of parenthood. Whether we get any sleep or not.